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contribute to this conversation on the role of religious institutions
in community organizing out of my own dissertation research between 1990-1994
in Philadelphia (Prelude to Struggle: African American Clergy and Community
Organizing for Economic Development in the 1990’s, Temple University, 1996).
This was a study of ten African American congregations in one of the poorest
neighborhoods in the U.S.-- North Philadelphia. All were involved in some
form of community economic development (CED) which included activities
intent on attracting capital to their neighborhood, as they defined the
boundaries. The projects were diverse and complex: commercial development
(shopping mall), housing (202 high-rises and large tracts of low
and moderate income units), and capital formation (organizing credit
unions and even a bank). Job creation was a by-product of all of
these projects.

It should be noted that North Philadelphia served as home base for Rev.
Leon Sullivan (now retired) who, through his impressive development work
in the community and through the establishment of the Opportunities Industrial
Centers (O.I.C.) left a strong legacy which continues to be the dominant
model for church-based CED in North Philadelphia and elsewhere. This model
relies on entrepreneurial pastors, working independently for the benefit
of their immediate area through strategies of accessing the power structure
for resources, but rarely challenging it. Five of the churches in the study
employed this approach.

In 1992, a local affiliate of the Industrial Areas Foundation was organized,Philadelphia
Interfaith Action (PIA). This resulted from four years of training, organizing
and fundraising by a "sponsoring committee" comprised almost
entirely from Catholic and African American clergy. The church-based community
organization model differs in significant ways from the paradigm for community
development which had been effectively utilized by African American clergy
mentored by Sullivan. I identified four different action frames utilized
in the CBCO model:

shared leadership (as opposed to clerical leadership)

coalitional (rather than parochial) parameter of focus,issues
are citywide

grassroots empowerment (rather than accessing power)

power structures are challenged and change is sought (rather
than accommodation)

Not all African American churches were easily drawn to the new model.
In fact, some of the original Black clergy who had been instrumental in
bringing the I.A.F. to Philadelphia and even participated in their 10-day
training left the coalition soon after it was launched, going back to the
more dominant paradigm of CED.

My study looked at both models which were pursuing the same development
goals in North Philadelphia but through markedly different means. Through
quantitative and ethnographic methodologies, I explored how and why congregations
in the same context would construct different strategies. While not going
into all the findings, I will bring this research to bear on the questions
we consider together.

The suitability of congregations
for community organizing

Congregations represent a confluence of resources which first attracted
Ed Chambers to move toward religious institutions (rather than neighborhoods
at large) as the primary units for organizing when he took over leadership
of the I.A.F. (upon the death of Saul Alinsky in 1972). The capital resources
are already in place: buildings and a base of dues-paying members.
Further, congregations often represent the less-quantifiable elements of
social capital: "Connectional" faith communities are affiliated
with denominational families. This provides access to a greater
pool of financial resources plus the enhanced political credibility of
the local church.

Within the community, congregations are often the primary, if not only,
local institution with a grassroots constituency. As such they "bring
to the table" legitimacy within the community,they have been
part of its past, usually associated as a stabilizing factor. Further,
the futures of church and neighborhood are intrinsically related to each
other. Research confirms what church leaders have long known to be true,that
the likelihood that congregations are growing is correlated with the growth
of its community (Roozen, 1993). Therefore, congregations have an institutional
stake in quality of life and indeed, viability of the neighborhoods
and communities in which they reside.

Congregations are further attractive to community organizations because
of their ongoing work of producing social capital. Central to their
institutional purpose is the building of consensus through the reinforcement
of values and worldview. Congregations are the only institutions in communities
in which volunteers participate for the purpose of individual and collective
systems of meaning-making. As individualistic as congregations can
be in their interpretation of transformation, there is necessarily an ethos
of transcendence,connecting members to that which is outside of themselves.
Members therefore participate regularly in affirming that they are part
of a larger purpose and reality. Further, most congregations of all faiths
reinforce the value of public participation and service. In message
and program, most congregations encourage some form of engagement with
the public.

An important element of social capital which religious communities also
bring to community organizing is the experience of democratic participation
which is present in all but the most autocratic congregations. Even those
people who are among the politically disenfranchised in the broader culture
can organize power bases within the smallest congregations and bring enormous
passion to conflicts within their churches. Those who are without voice
in the body politic find voice in the micro-democracies inherent in many
congregations. It is critical in community organizing to mobilize those
for whom the memory of democratic participation is not extinguished.

Of course, these elements of capital and social capital (buildings,
budgets, connections, legitimacy, transcendence, ethos and the experience
of democratic participation) are descriptive of many, if not most, congregations.
Yet not all affiliate with CBCO coalitions. The question of why some are
better suited, or at least are attracted, to community organizing was at
the very core of my own research.

In my small universe (African American churches in North Philadelphia
involved in economic development projects), I did not find any trends along
denominational lines in the attraction to PIA, or more broadly, to community
organizing. Of the five churches which did affiliate with PIA, two were
part of so-called Mainline Protestant denominations (Presbyterian and Episcopal)
and three were aligned with African American Protestant groups (Baptist
and Church of God in Christ). Similarly, among those who followed the more
traditional, entrepreneurial strategy two churches represented the African
American traditions (Baptist) and three came from the Mainline Protestant
denominations (Presbyterian, Methodist and American Baptist). Further,
there was no significant difference in the size of the congregations,there
were small and large congregations in both groups. This differs from previous
studies which found that the size and denomination of a congregation are
correlated with the construction of its social outreach (Lincoln &
Mamiya, 1990; Paris, 1985; Pope, 1942). Generally data had suggested that
larger churches from more independent (rather than connectional) traditions
would be more likely to become involved in community issues.

There were a set of variables which I had thought might be at work in
the choice of strategy. These included characteristics of the congregation:
socio-economic class, political views and religiousbeliefs. There had been a long-standing tenet in the sociology
of religion that political and religious conservatism were positively related
(Stark & Glock, 1968, et. al.). Research in African American churches
had also correlated increased participation in churches with decreasing
activism (Marx, 1967). However, while the survey data in the ten churches
(N=1586) showed diversity in religious beliefs, this was unrelated to
the choice of strategy for economic development. Similarly, there was
no difference inthe socio-economic class status or the political
opinions related to the economy between the two groups (whether analyzed
as individuals or aggregated by congregation). There were interactions
among the variables,education and denomination impacted religious beliefs,
and s.e.s. was related to political views, for example. However, congregational
characteristics related to its size, denomination, theological beliefs,
political perspectives or the socio-economic class status of its membership
could not be seen to predict who would affiliate with the IAF group and
who would not.

I then turned to the pastors themselves for a series of interviews related
to how they had developed their CED projects and why they chose the strategies
which they had used. There was a lot of similarity among the pastors. Almost
all were theologically conservative and well-educated. They shared a commitment
to improving the physical, as well as the spiritual, well-being of both
their congregants and their neighbors. They all saw the discrepancies in
opportunities between races and classes, and acted in the ways they felt
would be most effective in bringing change.

All of the pastors were acknowledged by themselves and their congregations
as being the primary, if not exclusive, decision maker in whether to affiliate
with PIA. The pastors basically described their decisions in pragmatic
terms. That is, they either felt that they needed to broaden their power
base in order to effect the changes needed for their neighborhood (and
therefore joined PIA) or they believed that working in partnership or coalition
with anyone would dilute a much-needed focus on their corner of North Philadelphia,
and so they did not join the organization.

In back of the pragmatism were some interesting trends which shed some
light on the question of "suitability."

First, the pastors who did join PIA were more "up-and-coming"
than those who had opted out. That is, they had somewhat less political
capital within the African American community than their fellow clergy
who did not affiliate: they were younger, with fewer educational credentials
and shorter tenures in their churches. Those who had chosen to work parochially
(in the Sullivan paradigm) were older, more educated, from slightly larger
congregations, and they were more integrated into power structures. This
may have contributed to a strong sense of personal security and autonomy
from other clergy. For the most part, the non-PIA pastors communicated
that they did not feel like they needed towork in coalition,they
had the personal and institutional resources and connections to effect
the change they sought by working alone. Having gained access to the power
structure, they were reticent to challenge it in the confrontational tactics
they perceived the PIA to be using.

It was interesting in my sample of pastors that all of those who joined
the ecumenical, multi-racial IAF group had gone to integrated colleges
or seminaries and lived in significantly more integrated neighborhoods
than their counterparts. The five pastors who had chosen not to join the
coalition had all gone to Black colleges and lived in more segregated tracts.
This suggests that those who joined the coalition had a higher comfort
level with working with non-African Americans. It could further suggest
that those who had resisted "diluting" their efforts for their
people have a higher identification with the African American political
agenda. (I am currently continuing to do research in this area of the "dual
agenda" of African Americans in political coalitions.) [It should
also be said that the ethos of this IAF affiliate is distinctly that of
the Black church,actions are usually held in African American churches,
the music, prayers and responsiveness are within the Black church vernacular.
The majority of those attending rallies are African American, even though
only half of the member churches are. All of this makes the experience
of working in an ecumenical, multi-racial coalition less of a cultural
stretch for African American churches.]

I had expected that personal histories of activism would be related
to the choice of whether or not to join the IAF group. However, I found
no such correlation in this sample. Those who had participated to a high
degree in the Civil Rights Movement were just as likely to be pursuing
the entrepreneurial approach as they were to becoming a member of the PIA.
Several of the pastors in my study who had become strong, vocal leaders
within PIA were actually neophytes to activism of any kind.

It was clear, however, that the action frames of the IAF, and more specifically
PIA, resonated with pre-existing consciousness of the pastors had who later
joined. They were not converted, or transformed, through 10-day training
but found that their ideas about shared leadership, ecumenical collaboration,
grassroots empowerment and challenging the power structure when needed
were reinforced through their participation in PIA.

Therefore, what I would recommend (and have), to organizers wanting
to recruit more African American churches not to exclude any from consideration
because of assumptions about denomination, theology or church size. Large
Pentecostal or small Mainline Protestant congregations are just as likely
to affiliate. They should approach those pastors who they know to have
had some multi-racial experience, especially in ecumenical contexts. Those
more likely to respond positively, from my data, would be those on the
"second tier" of political status within the African American
community, rather than those who are well-known because of their political
connections and/or community development projects. Those with less political
capital to lose will be willing to take risks.

In conversation with potential pastors, they should not discount those
with no prior history of community activism; rather they should listen
for resonance to the components of shared leadership, a citywide perspective
on issues, openness to challenging power structures through the empowerment
of those who have been disenfranchised. Do not expect pastors to accept
or reject the invitation to join the organization on ideological grounds;
rather they will process the decision in terms familiar to the IAF,institutional
self-interest and political pragmatism.

Political strategies and their effectiveness
with African American congregations

For the most part, the African American churches in my study which had
affiliated with PIA were comfortable with most of the strategies employed.
As with the pastors, lay people who attended the 10-day training found
that it corresponded to their worldview and life experience (several compared
it to training within the corporate sector). Most of the skills learned
in the training are adaptive to congregational life, such as how to analyze
issues, plan and moderate meetings. One pastor remarked that he realized
in sending church folk to the training that "the first action they’re
going to do when they get back is on the church." He was right. Listening
and conversation skills learned in doing "one-on-ones" corresponds
to the religious culture of relationality and caring.

Shared leadership has been more of a stumbling block. As PIA was just
moving from sponsoring committee to launched organization, a group of clergy
(including two prominent African American pastors who had been instrumental
in bringing the IAF to Philadelphia) wrote to Ed Chambers asking that this
chapter be exempted from the larger organization’s commitment to sharing
leadership among clergy and lay people. He, of course, declined. They,
in turn, used this as the basis for their decision not to affiliate with
PIA,he just didn’t understand the way things were done in Philadelphia,
they argued. Even for those who have enthusiastically joined the coalition,
sharing the podium and the power with others,especially laypeople, women,
and even other pastors,has taken some getting used to.

For African Americans, at least in North Philadelphia, there is low
expectation for democratic participation in policy-making which impacts
the quality of life in their neighborhoods. There is not a strong memory
of public democracy which they hope to recover. Even those pastors who
have managed to access power realize they are the exceptions, rather than
the rule and have a responsibility as representatives of the community.

Alongside the low democratic expectations, there is a high sense of
grievance. Poverty is becoming more entrenched in Philadelphia.
Nine new "ghetto" tracts were created between the 1980 and 1990
census (Wilson, 1996). In the survey, more believed that government was
to blame for causing poverty than individual characteristics of laziness
or luck or structural causes of racism or job availability. A clear plurality
believed that government was primarily responsible for ending poverty,again
ahead of individuals, businesses, churches or community organizations.
The statement on the survey which elicited the highest consensus was "In
order to bring poverty to an end, there will have to be major changes in
our economic system" to which 80% agreed. Despite the level of dissatisfaction
with the government and economy, even among this middle-class sample, the
overwhelming strategy for social change they believed to be most effective
was "spiritual conversion". Three times more respondents opted
for divine intervention above electoral politics.

Therefore, what resonates with the African American members of PIA is
a political process which bypasses electoral politics. (There is more that
can be said about the disillusionment with electoral politics at this moment
in Philadelphia’s history.) The IAF is careful about remaining non-partisan
so that it can maintain freedom to "hold accountable" public
officials. As issues are framed in moral, even spiritual terms, there is
the opportunity for a righteous rage to find voice. In interviews, PIA
pastors spoke of threat and conflict in the metaphors of war (while the
pastors using the traditional model preferred more corporate images). There
is a deep prophetic tradition embedded in the collective memory of these
Bible-believing African American Christians which is visibly tapped in
public actions. One defining moment of the organization came when Philadelphia
District Attorney, Lynne Abraham, was booed out of the church by PIA members
at a rally. While a few laypeople did feel uncomfortable with some of the
confrontational tactics, most (including all the pastors interviewed) found
them to be appropriate responses coming out of a strong theological/moral
rationale. They were able to locate the threat not in the person, but in
the system within which they acted.

There was one sticking point for some of the African American PIA members
which was more problematic,the inclusion of a synagogue in the coalition.
While they shared the prophetic tradition with the Jewish faith, they often
invoked the name of Jesus as source of their power and blessing for their
actions. Prayers, songs and speech often made reference to Jesus. Learning
to be more inclusive felt like compromising the faith to many. While this
issue was not resolved during the period of my research, it remained subterranean.
Eventually, the synagogue left PIA.

Political and religious environmental
factors

The most obvious hindrance to CBCO in Philadelphia is that this is such
an inherently parochial city. Ecumenism has always struggled. Congregations
and faith traditions remain segregated, on Sunday morning and throughout
the week. Throughout the four years of the sponsoring committee, significant
relationships were built between African American and Roman Catholic clergy.
There was little precedent for this in Philadelphia. The week before the
opening assembly (February, 1992), the Cardinal forbade Catholic participation
in the organization. [No explanation was provided but it was suspected
that he had a negative view of the IAF from his previous assignment in
Pittsburgh.] This was surprising, especially given the investment of resources
made by the Catholic church,not only human, but financial as well through
the Campaign for Human Development. The African American clergy grieved
with the priests in the group over their enforced exclusion.

Given the institutional parochialism of Philadelphia, crossing boundaries
of race, class and tradition is a behavior which has to be learned (and
not always easily, as in the case with the synagogue). Beyond the intentions
of individuals are the structural sources of parochialism,as in the case
with the Archdiocese, which still prohibits Catholic participation in PIA.
While denominations have provided funding for the group, as with other
IAF affiliates, support for a cause outside of the tradition does not come
easily.

The participation of African American churches was probably aided by
a "trigger event," or "change in political opportunity"
in the language of social movement theory (McAdam, 1982). There was a dramatic
and sudden rearrangement of the Black power structure when Mayor Wilson
Goode left office and Congressman Bill Gray resigned in 1991. The Black
Clergy Association, which had been closely associated with both of the
politicians, and fostered the Sullivan paradigm of CED, found itself politically
disoriented without its direct access to political power. This led some
pastors to question how they would then be able to leverage public funding
for local CED projects. For some, the conclusion was a reformulation of
their understanding of power as represented by the newly emerging coalition,
PIA. Of course, these sorts of trigger events are difficult to predict
or to manufacture. But PIA was able to capitalize on the realignments which
were taking place.

Perhaps the greatest political challenge to PIA right now is the popularity
of the mayor, Ed Rendell. His national profile ("America’s Mayor")
has resulted from his dramatic reversal of Philadelphia’s fiscal health
largely through some highly visible strategies including a showdown with
the municipal workers unions and extensive downtown development. His political
capital is such that he can ignore neighborhood issues or act rudely to
delegations from PIA and not suffer public censure. While he has supported
land acquisition for PIA’s first stage of Nehemiah Housing, that support
did not come easily. Rendell’s predecessor, Wilson Goode, owed his election
(and especially his re-election) to the African American churches of the
city. For Rendell, political indebtedness to the religious community, and
more particularly the Black churches, does not exist. One of the congregations
in the study, which had opted not to join PIA but was involved in developing
its own shopping plaza, had contributed $10,000 to the Rendell campaign.
It remains to be seen whether that will be buy enough political capital
to leverage much-needed federal funds.

Conclusion

I have engaged these questions out of the particularity of Philadelphia,
PIA and African American congregations in North Philadelphia. These observations
should be tested in other contexts to determine the extent that they can
be generalized, if at all. However, in a variety of particular contexts
a broader social movement is taking place,the grassroots movement to re-enfranchise
the poor in democratic participation in the public decisions which affect
the quality of life in their communities. It is essential to document the
many expressions of this movement so that the overall directions can be
identified.

References

Day, Donna C. (Katie). Prelude to Struggle: African American Clergy
and Community Organizing for Economic Development in the 1990's (Dissertation:
Temple University, 1996)

Lincoln, C. Eric and Lawrence H. Mamiya. The Black Church in the African
American Experience. Durham and London: Duke University Press, 1990.